Kalosian Snow
by MulberryFlower
Summary: Trapped in the aftermath of a frigid storm surrounding Dendemille Town, Calem and Serena find themselves forced together in an overcrowded Pokémon Center - much to her dismay and his amusement. KalosShipping with copious amounts of fluff.


**Writer's Notes: I (finally!) wrote a KalosShipping fic! /o/ Yes, it's horribly tropey and predictable and it's already been done at least once in every novel series/fandom/dramedy that ran for more than three seasons, but it's also cute. Sink your teeth into the fluff and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

She's the opposite of breathtaking, he thinks.

In fact, she's absolutely terrifying.

At first glance, you wouldn't notice it – her athletic frame and waist-length, honey-colored hair were nothing out of the ordinary, and her behavior did nothing to warrant any doubts about her status as a trainer. However, with prolonged exposure to her, he began to note subtle personality tics indicative of an undercurrent of power; a predisposition to compete and exceed the abilities of her peers and an absolutely stinging wit that would render even the most eloquent and salacious commentators speechless.

It's on one of these occasions – halfway between the Dendemille Town gatehouse and the Pokémon Center – that he sees it shine through again, as she meets and holds the lecherous glare of another traveler who _dared_ to marvel at her. The man notices her watching him and breaks eye contact, sheepish.

It's all Calem can do not to fall at her knees.

They finally make their way to the Center. It's wet and cold and already horribly late. She is hungry, he is tired and they're both weary from the bitterly frigid weather. Her bangs are soaked from the rain and plastered limply to her forehead, and his fingertips have gone numb from the chilliness of the wind. She waits patiently at one of the tables in the lobby and notices the crease of his brows as Nurse Joy says something that she can't hear. He returns, looking just the tiniest bit nervous, and – "_Was that a flash of eagerness in his eyes?_" she wonders – somehow also incredibly pleased.

"They only have one room open."

"You're kidding me."

"I'm serious, Serena. Everything is booked. No one wants to camp in this weather."

She flashes him a look that could cut glass and storms up the stairs.

* * *

She takes her time in the shower, not out of necessity, but out of spite. After all, as she pointedly reminded him while she was kicking off her shoes and wringing the rainwater out of her hair, it's _his_ fault for taking his time and not rushing to get to the next town while they were making their way down Route 16.

She doesn't make a habit of being particularly mean to him – at least not terribly so, but he gives her the leeway that she needs and doesn't complain as he shivers while sitting on the mattress, still slightly damp from the harrowing storm. _She can't be blamed for fussiness_, he thinks, and so he doesn't hold it against her. Or at least, that's what he tries to tell himself. Maybe it's just because of the clenching, light-as-air feeling that wells up inside of his chest every time her warm, chocolate eyes make contact with his stormy, grey ones.

As he listens to the sound of the hail pelting against the window, his mind wanders back to the first day of their journey and how drastically it differed from their current dynamic. He wasn't immediately taken with her – she was competition to him, another obstacle that stood in his way, and his attitude towards her had been anything but polite. Stimulated by an innate arrogance with his skills and a childishly competitive drive, he hadn't thought much of the blonde newcomer – she was nothing more than a foreign transplant and perhaps, he had thought, an occasional sparring partner if she'd proved to be decent.

It wasn't until she'd absolutely obliterated his team on not one but _two_ separate occasions – and with a type disadvantage, no less! – that he finally decided to soften up a bit towards the wildly powerful addition to their group of friends. It wouldn't do him any good to make enemies with her, he reasoned, and it would never hurt to be friends with someone who was bright and witty and talented.

_Friends._

That sentiment had hardly lasted for a week before she'd won him over completely; of course, he'd never admit it.

She emerges from the shower and glides delicately across the floor, clad only in her towel as she rummages through her bag for something to slip into. His breath hitches in his throat and she whirls around to face him, eyes flashing like daggers.

"Take a shower, Calem."

"Y-Yes," he manages, slipping past her and through the bathroom door.

By the time he reemerges, she is perched delicately on the edge of the bed, running a brush through her now-nearly-dry hair. He blinks, his eyes traveling over her slim, tanned shoulders, past the curve of her hips, down her toned legs and over her red-painted toes before he finally glances back up to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry about the mess," he tells her quietly.

"That doesn't do us any favors, Calem." Her tone isn't angry so much as it's just tired. He can hardly blame her for that, given that they _were_ exposed to the horrifically bitter weather for nearly an hour. It's taken its toll on him, too – the tips of his fingers are still numb and his ears are still tinged red from the cold – so he can hardly imagine what it must feel like for the smaller, slighter Serena.

"I know, but still. You're uncomfortable and it's my fault."

"You don't need to apologize, Calem," she replies hastily, only the tiniest hint of an edge to her voice. "It's not going to help anything."

At that, he crosses the room and closes the distance between them by perching on the edge of the bed next to her.

"No." She states pointedly.

"Hm?"

"No." She repeats. "You're sleeping on the floor."

"_Serena!"_

"What." She states flatly.

"It's ten degrees outside! I am _not_ sleeping on the floor."

"Well then, you should have considered that when you were taking your sweet time getting here. Maybe if we would have arrived _before_ the snowstorm, you'd have your own room."

"Serena, I'm going to freeze if you force me to sleep on the floor."

"Don't be such a baby."

He rolls his eyes, noting that even the most valiant attempts at a debate are in vain. Resigning himself to the fact that he won't win against the girl, he grabs the blanket from the foot of the mattress and spreads it out on the floor.

"Hey!" her voice is heated, angry.

"Yes?" he inquires innocently.

"That's my blanket."

"No way, Serena. You got the mattress. I am not sleeping on the floor without a blanket, at the very least." He keeps his tonality flat, silently celebrating the fact that it doesn't betray his feelings of guilt. He's sorry that he managed to get them into this mess, sorry that she's uncomfortable, sorry that he can't do anything else to fix their predicament.

"Fine," she huffs, collapsing backwards onto the mattress.

The room only stays quiet for a few minutes. He shifts from his position on the floor, eliciting a creak from the floorboards beneath the carpet and stirring up the rustling sound of the blankets. He notices the way her breath catches, like she's trying everything in her power not to say anything to him. He shifts again.

"Would you be quiet down there?" She hisses through the darkness.

"Sorry, it's a little uncomfortable when you only have a quarter of an inch of carpeting between you and a solid wood floor. Some of us aren't lucky enough to have a mattress. _Oh wait_, that was your decision, not mine," he counters.

"You know _what?"_ the pitch of her voice increases as she reaches over to flip the light switch near the bedside table. "This is entirely your doing." She stands, glaring down at him. It's uncomfortable and unusual for him, seeing as though he normally stands a solid five inches taller than Serena, and he immediately feels the urge to stand up.

As if that would give him any leverage whatsoever.

The fact that she's _that much cuter_ when she's glaring at him with that rage-infused pout doesn't particularly help, either.

"It's completely freezing outside, Calem. We were stuck because of _you._ I still can't feel my legs, I'm pretty sure I completely ruined my clothes, you left our teams totally exposed to the elements…!"

"You know, you don't have to be so sour about it, Serena. I already apologized. You don't need to keep kicking me."

He flinches, half-expecting to hear the crack of her shrill voice cutting through the air or the sting of her palm across the side of his cheek, but instead she pauses, bites her lip and glances up at him with her huge, chocolate eyes.

"Am I really that bad?" she inquires, blinking worriedly at him.

It takes everything he has to hold back from grabbing her and gathering her up in his arms. He fights the urge to stroke her hair and kiss her and inform her that he doesn't care _how_ bad she can be, that she's still dazzlingly incredible in his mind and that he wants nothing more than to make sure that she's constantly comfortable on their journey.

Instead, he offers up an enthusiastically compassionate smile and shakes his head.

"You're never that bad, Serena."

She takes a seat on the mattress, lowering her guard and dropping the defensive act.

"That's good, then, because I wouldn't want to come across like that."

No apologies for lashing out, no meek behavior, just a solid counter. Calem realizes that this is as good as it's going to get and gives her another smile.

"You know," she continues. "You're welcome to sleep up here if you want to. Consider it compensation for the fact that I got angry."

Calem refrains from informing her that _of course he wants to,_ and instead nods and grabs the blanket from the floor, shakes it vigorously and drapes it over the bed. Serena slips underneath the thick fabric and shifts to make herself comfortable. Calem follows suit before rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around her. His lips find their way to the side of her neck, and his voice cuts through the quiet room.

"You know I was never upset with you, right? It's impossible to stay mad at the one and only Serena."

He watches as her unflawed pink lips curve gently into a smile in the darkened room before planting one more kiss on her delicate skin. Regardless of the piercingly cold weather outside, he's managed to quell the icy atmosphere inside the room. Content with the outcome of the evening, he allows the faint vanilla fragrance of the girl next to him to soothe him into the world of his dreams.


End file.
